Page 58 of Somewhere Without You
Istillhadno idea how his bag ended up sealed behind Gran’s fireplace. Did he hide ittherehimself?OrhadGran?Hadsheevenknownitwasthere?
The leash went taut in my hands and I glanced up toseeWinston eyeing a squirrel.Ifhe lunged, Icouldeasilyend up tumbling down into the stream below. I wrapped the leash tighter, bracing myself.
“Don’teventhink about it,”I warned, giving him alook. He sat back, pretending to listen, but the glint in his eyes said otherwise.
The squirrel, realizing itwasbeingwatched, made a break for it—darting down the tree and across the path.Thatwasall the invitation Winston needed. He took off like a shot, yanking the leash from my hand and dragging me down in the process. One second Iwasupright, the next Iwason the ground, watching him disappear around the bend.
I groaned, brushing dirt and tiny gravel from my palms as I sat up. My elbow throbbed where ithadmetthe ground, but nothingfeltbroken—justscraped and a little bruised. Winstonwasalready a blur in the distance, tail flying like a flag of rebellion.
“Winston!”I shouted, scrambling to my feet.“Getback here!”
He didn’t, of course. I took off jogging down the trail, heart pounding—notjustfrom the sprint, but from the thought of him crashing into some poor hiker or flying straight off the edge of a ridge.
The path curvedsharply, and I rounded itjustin time toseeWinston skidding to a stop near the base of a small, tiered waterfall. The squirrelhadvanished, but Winston remained, panting and pleased with himself, as if hehadn’tjustcaused total chaos.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”I scolded, grabbing the leash and bending over to catch my breath.
Winston wagged his tail like wewereold pals reunited after years apart,completelyunfazed by the mayhemhe’dcaused. I snatched the leash off the ground and gave it a slight tug—not enough to hurt, just enough to let him know I wasn’t amused.
We started the slow climb back up the trail, the sky already beginning to change. The lighthadshiftedinto a strange, golden huethatmade the woodsfeelmore dreamlike than real. I wrapped the leash twice around my wrist and kept my eyes on the path ahead, trying not to focus on the tight ache in my knee or the sting of gravel still embedded in my palm.
That’s when Inoticedhow quiet ithadgotten.
Earlier, when we arrived, the parking lothadbeennearlyfull.Butaside from the coupleI’dseenearlier,thathadbeen it. No joggers. No dog walkers. No distant hum of laughter. Nothing.JustWinston and me, alone on a trailthathadsuddenly turned unfamiliar.
Thereweretwo unspoken rules about the mountains:Never go in after dark.Andnever go in alone.
I glanced behind me.Stillnothing. Butwhen I turned back, something flickered at the edge of the path—a sudden shift, like someone slipping behind the trunk of a treejustout of sight.
I froze. Winston froze, too, head tilting, his ears alert.
I held my breath, waiting for another sign of movement. A small rabbit shot out from behind a bush, vanishing into the undergrowth. I let out a shaky exhale, then shot a warninglookat Winston.
The farther we walked, the more the woodsseemedto close in. The sun filtered through the leaves in strange angles, casting shadowsthatshifted as if theywerewatching. A branch cracked to our right. I stopped, heart stuttering.
“Probablya deer,”I whispered, but my voice didn’t sound convinced—notevento me.
We kept walking, my grip on the leash tightening until my knuckles turned white. That’s when Iheardit—footsteps behind us. Not fast, not close, but steady. Deliberate. A pause.Thena crunch of leaves. Another step.
I spun around. Nothing but trees.
“Hello?”My voice echoed in the thick silence.“Is someonethere?”
No answer.
Justthe slow creak of a tree swaying in the breeze. . .andthenthe unmistakable snap of another branch behind us.
Winston let out alowwhine, his body tensing.
Thatwasall I needed. I turned and started walking faster, almost dragging him behind me. I didn’tlookback again.
The walk homefelttwice as long as the hike out. Part of itwasthe limp, my leg still stinging from the fall.MostlyitwasWinston, whohadsuddenlydeclared war on every bird and squirrel hesaw—forcing me to keep a tight grip on his leash.
Sweat slicked my palms as we rounded the corner onto the driveway. I alwaysknewwewereclose when the thick, heady scent of magnolias hit me—rich, sweet, and impossible to ignore. A soft breeze rustled the branches above, sending a white petal with a blush of pink drifting down into my hair. Another landed right on Winston’s nose. He sneezed, loud and dramatic, forcing a laugh from me as weslowlyambled the rest of the way.
Wewereabout halfway up the drive, where the trees began to thin, when a flicker of movement caught my eye. My stomach did a little flip.
There, sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands—wasLogan.
